


don't call me baby

by badjujuboo (miztrezboo)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-20
Updated: 2012-06-20
Packaged: 2017-11-08 04:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miztrezboo/pseuds/badjujuboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt comment!fic from <b>robpat</b> :<i>Niall feels left out of the band? Feels useless or like, not as close as Liam/Zayn and Harry/Louis? </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	don't call me baby

**dont call me baby**

Sometimes it's hard being Niall.

There's Louis and Harry. All big hair and big smiles and wide, bright shiny eyes and feelings so loud that words and touch can't contain them.

Then there's Liam and Zayn. Quiet and subdued but giving off that air of maturity - untouchability even (not really a word, but an emotion none the less).

And then -- well then, there's Niall.

He's never really sure of where he fits. He hasn't really got a corner as such, a person to lean on (and when he realises that he's thinking of _louisharry_ and _zaynliam_ as being each other’s ‘person’ he makes a promise to himself not to watch any more seasons of Grey's Anatomy because that just isn't _right_ ). He's just _Niall_.

Niall: the one who likes to eat and drink pints and talk about Demi Lovato and his mancrush on Justin Bieber (he has great hair, alright?)

Niall: who everyone protects, _just_ because he got a wee bit scared in that insane mob situation in New York (which, any normal person would have freaked out about to be honest, his mother even said so.)

Niall: who had to get braces for his teeth which he was never _really_ self-conscious about until management kept 'mentioning it' in passing. (It wasn't that he didn't think he needed them or didn't appreciate they paid for him to have them put on - it was more the fact it was something that differentiated him yet again from the others that he took offense to).

Niall tries to hide from it. Push the feeling that he is _less than_ out of his head, but it's not that easy. In interviews - he feels left out, offers opinions and answers questions that are asked but he never truly feels like he's being heard. Even when he's sat in between all of them - sometimes smack bang in the centre - he still feels it, this sense of misplacement. It’s overwhelming how out of place, just a touch out of sync with everyone else he seems to be. It's like, anyone can look at a picture of them and see that he doesn't belong. The blond one. The irish one whose accent makes him a little hard to understand sometimes. The one who only ever gets asked about Nando's or how many pints he can drink. The one they treat like a bloody toy that you can pull the string on so he says the same damn lines over and over.

Since when did he become Liam's Woody doll?

So he figures he'll _make_ himself noticeable. He starts tweeting a lot more -- answering fans bizarre questions and talking about random things that fill his mind, how happy he is to be just _living_ the life he is living and how thankful he is to be doing so. He plays around on stage a lot more, dances like no one is watching, makes eye contact with as many of the fans as he can. He starts hanging around with the band -- and it sort of hurts a bit when he realises that he feels more at home crashed out in Josh's room playing around on the wii with Sandy and Dan than he ever has done doing the same thing with the four boys he's supposed to be closest with.

He doesn't think they notice. Doesn't think they care much really when he declines their offers to come out or stay in. "Going to the record store with Dan," he'll say when Harry and Lou want to go to a movie. "Can't do, hitting a pub with Sandy later," he says and ignores the slight frown to Liam's brow when he asks about a round of golf on a rare day off. "Gonna ride back with the band," he says over his shoulder, completely missing how all four boys pout when he walks off in the opposite direction of their own bus after one particularly grueling show.

As the months go on and he finds himself drifting further and further from being part of his band to being a part of _the_ band, it makes life a little harder. In interviews - he'll get asked something about the others and he stammers and stutters until Liam or Louis saves him and he has to shoot them a thankful smile. It's during recording of their second album that he feels the gap between them even more. He forgets what parts are his, who he's meant to be harmonising with until it's Zayn that blows his stack.

"If you were _here_ more you'd get this by now, Niall!" Zayn says in a tone that's a shade below shouting - can't ruin his voice after all. He's the one they need for all those brilliant solos.

Or Liam.

Or Harry.

Or when they want the girls to scream because he's just _so pretty_ , Louis.

"Do you, do you really feel like that?" and it's Harry that speaks up and makes Niall lift his eyes from where he'd been staring daggers into the lyric sheet in front of him.

"What?" he stammers, because as far as Niall had known, he hadn't spoken a word.

Well, even if he did, they were in separate sound booths so, no one should be able to have heard if he _did_ speak anyhow.

Harry taps on the window, and points to the red light in the corner. _Fuck_.

It blinks and that means its recording which means they can hear him and. _Double fuck._

"Is that how you really feel?" Liam asks this time, and Niall can't turn away as much as he wants to because Liam's always had this strange power over all of them. He didn't get the nickname 'Daddy Direction' for nothing after all. When Liam speaks, you sit up, listen and answer in one form or the other.

"Maybe, I mean, no?" Niall splutters, he can feel his face heating up and their stares - even through the thick glass - are cutting into his skin. Each of their looks are stripping away all the layers he's built up to fend off how all the displacement from the group he was chosen to be a part of has chipped away at his generally happy soul.

"Nialler," Louis breathes his name and it feels like an apology and Niall wonders if he even knows what he's apologising for.

Niall shakes his head, swallowing and shrugs a little - stopping only when he realises his jerky body movements might be taken as there is something really wrong. He clears his throat and turns his back on them. "Let's go again, yeah? I think I've got it this time."

But no sound is made and Niall has to blink fast because all these stupid feelings are coming to the surface. All the unworthy, not pretty enough, not funny enough, not broody enough, not enough, not enough, _not ever enough,_ feelings are swirling heavy in his gut and up and up and. . .

He will not cry. Not over this. Not over them anymore.

(There was that _one_ time with his mother but it had been St. Patrick's day and he was so, _so_ far from home and he couldn't even get a decent pint so that doesn't count.)

Then they're in there with him. He can smell Louis' expensive cologne, the fresh sunshine that is Liam, the coconut hair putty that is Zayn and that stupid bubblegum chap stick stuff that Harry will deny to the ends of the earth that he wears. Then it's shuffling feet (Liam), and a cleared throat (Zayn), and sniffling (Harry's been fighting off a cold for a week now), and then a sort of sob thing (Louis is such a tender heart when it comes to the lads, it’s rather ridiculous really).

"How, how long have you felt like this?" Liam asks, his voice all deep and reassuring as only Liam can be.

Niall shrugs, but he knows that won't be enough, not now they've opened this Pandora's Box. "A while. Not long. Maybe since the start of this tour? Maybe since the bungalow that first time. I don't know,"

Harry is sniffling again and maybe Louis is too after the little hurt noise that came from his direction.

"Why didn't you say something, you numpty?" Zayn asks, his hand soft, barely grazing Niall’s skin -- almost wary on Niall's shoulder.

"I didn't think it would matter. Didn't think _I_ did."

Louis really _does_ sob then, and Niall knows without looking that the arms wrapped around his waist belong to the oldest of their group. He can feel the tip of Louis' nose, cold and oddly wet like a dog pressed against his neck. "Christ, Nialler."

"Look it’s okay. We all have our place right? I mean, Louis has Harry, and Liam you have Zayn. I'm the odd man out. I get that. It was always going to have to be one of us and I've got the others. I'm okay."

There's another sob and Niall knows it wasn't Louis - he's too busy squeezing his arms around Niall's middle, so for the first time he looks up and it's Zayn wiping at his eyes.

Fuck, he made Zayn cry?

This is why he never should have opened his mouth.

"You can't think like that, Niall. If we've made you - obviously we've made you - I mean. I never," and Liam can't get a proper sentence out. More dog fueled analogies fill Niall's mind because Liam looks like someone threw his new puppy in the bloody river. Liam hasn't even had a proper hold of the damn thing yet.

"It's okay," Niall says but Harry is shaking his head and he out of everyone doesn't look upset. His green eyes are flashing bright and the apples of his cheeks are stained red. Definitely not upset, more swaying towards anger than anything else.

"No, it's not okay. You’re our friend and we - we made you think that you were less than all of us? That you were like, an extra part?" His voice is actually going up at the end and Niall is almost impressed at the speed at which Harry is speaking. Maybe it’s anger that gets the curly haired boy’s words to come at more than a snail’s pace.

"It is-"

"No," Harry interrupts, his curls flying everywhere as he steps forward in front of Niall, bending down so his face is right there and Niall can’t escape from it. There’s nowhere left for him to look except straight into Harry's glare and it's almost scary how serious the normally happy go lucky lad now looks.

"No it's not. You’re a _part_ of this, Niall. There is no 'One Direction' without any of us, especially you. You can't have a five member boy band if there's only four of us.”

"Your maths has improved, Curly," Louis mumbles into Niall's neck and Niall chuckles even though he thinks he shouldn't.

"If we, if we ever made you feel like you weren't meant to be here, weren't wanted. I'm sorry, we're all sorry, because without you, Ni, we're nothing."

And Niall does laugh then because, "Quoting Placebo are we, Hazza? Grimmer's been mucking about in your iPod again has he?"

“It's not a joke, this - how we made you think like this, this isn't a joke," and Niall can see tears forming in Harry's eyes now as Liam presses in on Niall's free side, Zayn having closed in on his left sometime between his hand meeting Niall's shoulder and Niall admitting that he felt left out. It's as if they're barricading him in and normally - things like this would set his small amount of claustrophobia off - but it doesn't. He feels warmer almost. Cared for.

It’s nice.

"We'll try harder," Liam says, his lips soft and warm against Niall's brow and Niall can hear the sincerity there. Feel it etched into his skin from the touches all of them are surrounding him in.

"Your ours Niall. There's no us without you."

"No I in team, mate," says Lou.

"Oi, now who's quoting lyrics."

"It's the name of the song, you twat, not like you'd even know who Mayday Parade are anyhow."

“Taking Back Sunday.”

“Wanker.”

“Tosser.”

“Twats.”

“And here I thought we were having a moment.”

And then a slap and Harry's got them all wrapped in his arms, long limbed lad that he is. It's an awkward mass of body parts they become. Standing here with Niall in between them as words like ' _sorry,_ ' and ' _we'll try harder_ ' and ' _you great tit_ ' and ' _love you_ ' and ' _love you_ ' and _'love all of you_ ' are repeated until words aren't needed anymore.

God, if only their fans knew how needed that circle was at the end of Moments - and just where it came from.

"Are you guys alright in there? We do have an album to finish and time is money!" A voice crackles over the empty space and there's a mumbled, "This is why I don't work with bloody British-" " _oi! one of us is Irish!_ " "- boybands."

There’s giggles then, because Niall knows without looking that Louis will be flipping the producer off and then they dissolve into chuckles and then a tickle fight breaks out until they're on the floor.

With a smile or a touch, a ruffle of his newly shorn hair even, they all end up vacating the room so Niall can get on and do his part, and it might not have fixed _everything_ between them. But it's a start.  


**Author's Note:**

> big love to the ever fantastical **fr333bird** and **wordgasmic** for lending their eyes over this!


End file.
